


The Ghost of What Could Have Been

by TwitteringYellowBirds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwitteringYellowBirds/pseuds/TwitteringYellowBirds
Summary: After the final battle, Harry struggles to sort out his feelings and plans for the future.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	The Ghost of What Could Have Been

Harry awoke in a four-poster bed, disoriented. After camping in the tent for nearly a year, then hiding out at Shell Cottage, breaking into Gringotts, escaping on a dragon, Apparating to Hogsmeade, entering the Room of Requirement, reuniting with nearly everyone he had ever known, grieving the losses from battle, destroying the final Horcruxes, dying, coming back to life, defeating Voldemort, and getting mobbed in the ensuing celebration…it was hard to believe it hadn't all been a dream.

Sunlight shone across the empty dormitory when he pulled back the curtains. Checking his wristwatch, it was already past noon.

As he descended into the Gryffindor common room, his eyes fell upon his best friends sharing a sofa in the corner. They weren’t snogging, at least, but he was struck by the casual intimacy of their pose. Ron’s arm was draped around Hermione, and he stroked her bushy hair while she leaned against him, rifling through a heavy tome.

She looked up when he approached. “Harry!” The book slipped out of her lap, and she fumbled to retrieve it, scooting away from Ron in the process. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did.” He couldn’t believe it himself, but it had been his first restful, dreamless sleep in what felt like the first time in his life.

“We didn’t want to wake you.” Ron’s exhaustion was evidenced by his gravelly voice and the dark circles beneath his blue eyes. “Thought you deserved to get some rest after…you know.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Repairing the castle,” Hermione informed him. “McGonagall went over the plan at breakfast. Speaking of which, Kreacher said he’d be happy to bring you some lunch.”

“I think I’ll go down to the kitchens, actually.”

“We’ll come with you–”

“No, you should get back to your studies.” He peered at the cover to read, _Wit Beyond Measure: A Biography of Rowena Ravenclaw_. Of course Hermione had visited the library to learn about the diadem they destroyed.

“Ginny’s probably still with the family. They moved…everyone to the grounds. We just wanted to be here when you got up.” The implication hit Harry like the explosion all over again, and he pictured Fred laying still with a grin on his face…

“Thanks. You should join them, I’ll catch up with you after lunch.” His best friends exchanged worried glances. “I’m fine. I just…” he trailed off, unsure just what he was, but they didn’t press him.

“Alright, mate. See you later.”

Harry exited the portrait hole and found himself walking past the Great Hall. Rather than joining the crowd beside the lake, he continued to retrace his steps toward the edge of the forest. What was he expecting, that he was going to see his parents, Sirius and Remus again? He had no idea where the Resurrection Stone had landed, and he had told Dumbledore he wasn’t going to look for it, but—

A glimpse of blonde hair interrupted his train of thought. “Luna?”

“Hello, Harry.” She seemed unperturbed to run into him alone by the Forbidden Forest.

“What are you doing here?”

“I volunteered to feed the thestrals. I haven’t seen them in months.”

He thought of Luna and Ollivander held captive in the dungeon below Malfoy Manor, and his voice cracked. “I s’pose you and I aren’t the only ones who can see them now.”

“No, I suppose not.” Her large eyes met his in its usual unblinking stare. “Though I suppose you still feel quite alone, don’t you?”

He looked away, falling into step beside her as they entered the dark woods. “When they announced that I was dead yesterday… I was, sort of. Not too far from here. But then I came back.”

Her pale eyebrows lifted. “You came back from beyond the veil?”

“Er…" He realized what she was referring to, the voices they heard behind the veil in the Department of Mysteries. “Yeah.”

“What was it like?”

“There was loads of mist, but it looked like King’s Cross Station. I talked to Dumbledore though, and he said that it’s different for everyone.”

Thestrals had begun to appear, and Luna reached into her bag to scatter scraps of raw, bloody meat around them. “Were you scared?”

He paused. “Before or after?”

“After. I’d think most people would be scared before dying, even someone as brave as a Gryffindor.”

“It wasn’t scary at all after I died. It felt…” He racked his brain, trying to describe the sensation. “Peaceful, I guess."

A beat passed as she mulled over his answer. “So how did you come back?”

“I got on a train, and then I woke up in the forest again with the Death Eaters. Voldemort had been knocked out too. And — you know the rest. But since then, I… I don’t know what I feel. Or what I am, if that makes sense.”

There was no easy way to recount how he had learned that he carried a piece of Voldemort’s soul in him since he was a baby, and that he had never been wholly alive until it was banished. Although he no longer sensed the rage that simmered below the surface, ready to erupt at any perceived slight, he also felt numb to joy or even the intense sorrow he would have expected to feel now that the war was over.

“Well, I can’t say that anyone will ever really understand what you went through, Harry. But maybe sharing your experience will help. It’s comforting to know that the people we lost are at peace on the other side.” She stroked a thestral’s scaly hide, and he knew to whom she was referring.

“Yeah – I should probably check on the Weasleys. But hey, thanks for helping me get away yesterday.” Harry did something he didn’t usually initiate, giving her a hug.

Luna was smiling when they pulled away. “I know what you are. You’re a phoenix."

He managed a grin, for once recognizing a creature that she had mentioned. “I don’t think my tears are nearly as powerful."

“Oh, I don’t know about that. There’s nothing like a good cry every once in a while, is there? Daddy and I couldn’t stop crying when I got home. And we all cried when we said goodbye to Dobby. But I think it's good. It shows that we care.”

Memories flashed through his mind: the seaside grave he dug by hand for the faithful house-elf, gripping Hermione’s hand in front of his parents’ final resting place in Godric’s Hollow, parting from Ginny after Dumbledore’s funeral, his first kiss with a tear-stained Cho… He recalled his frustration with her frequent sobbing over Cedric, and shame engulfed him.

“Tell your dad we’re sorry. Seriously, we couldn’t have defeated Voldemort without his help with the Deathly Hallows. I can give another exclusive interview to try and make up for the damage we caused.”

“He’d like that very much. He’s sorry too, for–”

“He wanted to save you. That I understand. Anyway, I should get going.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then exited the forest and trudged toward the lake.

Ginny spotted him first, and they locked eyes before he gave his condolences to Mrs. Weasley, who embraced him with a sob. George was as subdued as he’d ever seen him, and it was jarring that Charlie stood beside him instead of his twin. Charlie's expression was stoic, as was Bill’s, while Fleur buried her face in his shoulder. Mr. Weasley and Percy’s eyes glimmered with tears, magnified behind their glasses. After acknowledging each of them in turn, Harry broke away with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who filled him in on the details. The Heads of Houses were deciding how to best arrange a memorial site and service for the families who chose to bury the bodies at Hogwarts.

“He’s not going to the Burrow?”

“Fred was never one for staying confined at home,” Ron shrugged. “Plus, they had been talking about buying Zonko’s, and George reckoned it would be easier to visit him here.”

“You mean he's still planning to expand?” Harry knew the twins’ business had been successful despite – even because of – the desperation of war, but he found it hard to imagine George running the entire operation on his own.

“Fireworks sales are through the roof right now,” Ginny explained. “Charlie’s going to help, he wants to stay a while instead of going back to Romania. Even Percy offered to keep their books.”

This shocked him even more. “He was serious about resigning then?”

Hermione shook her head. “Just helping after work. Now that Kingsley’s the temporary minister, he’ll be reporting to a competent leader for once.”

"Oh yeah! Kingsley announced that anyone who survived the battle qualifies for Auror training,” Ron told him. “Neville already said he’s in.”

All three of them waited for Harry’s reaction, but he was at a loss. At the time he had decided not to return to Hogwarts for their Seventh Year, it was because the world was ending. But now that it hadn’t, now that he could return to the first place that had ever felt like home – did he want to be Quidditch Captain again? Would he follow in his father’s footsteps, becoming Head Boy even though he hadn’t been a prefect? Could he even imagine going back to classes everyday, doing homework, studying for his N.E.W.T.s – and for what, if he could go straight into the Auror program?

“You don’t need to decide yet,” Hermione reassured him. “You have all summer.”

Ron cast a furtive peek at his mother and lowered his voice. “And we've got to travel to Australia to get Hermione’s parents.”

Harry still had no words.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Ginny decided, grabbing his hand. Every red-haired head turned toward them, but she strode past in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. Though Harry had played out multiple variations of this fantasy for the past year, something wasn’t quite right.

“You think too much, you know,” she teased, running her fingers through his shoulder-length hair. They had taken refuge beneath the stands, far from anyone’s view, but Harry found himself unable to enjoy the moment. “You’re much better when you trust your gut.”

He remembered their first kiss, when he had swept her into his arms in front of the entire Gryffindor common room. But that was a lifetime ago, back when the most important thing felt like winning Quidditch games and— 

“Stop overthinking it.“ Ginny leaned in to kiss him, and his mind went blank.

* * *

As they returned to the castle, the growls from Harry’s stomach had become impossible to ignore. A full day had passed since he had last eaten, and fatigue was settling in. With reluctance, Ginny accepted that he wanted time to himself, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek and a lingering gaze before returning to Gryffindor tower. Alone at last, he chose an empty classroom and summoned Kreacher for a tray of sandwiches and pumpkin juice.

Even surrounded by everyone he had missed over the past year, Luna had been right — he felt different, detached. They had lost not only Fred, but Remus and Tonks, Tonks’ dad before her, Colin Creevey, Dobby, Hedwig, Mad Eye, even Snape…

Despite years of detesting the former Potions master, he had learned so much from the Half-Blood Prince, including his own “signature” disarming spell. Unbeknownst to him, Snape’s lifelong love for Lily Evans outweighed his loathing for James Potter and even his allegiance to the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, and he had risked everything in order to protect their son…

_Clear your mind_ , Snape’s voice echoed in his head. There was no longer any need to worry about Occlumency now that Voldemort couldn’t invade his thoughts. Though Ginny had accused him of thinking too much, what else could be do? He knew all about making split-second judgments to avoid danger. When it came to making decisions about the future, he had no clue where to begin.

Everyone assumed he would become an Auror, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. Hadn’t he had enough fighting? Could he do something he enjoyed, like playing Quidditch professionally or…what else? Maybe after Australia, he could continue traveling around the world, like the post-graduation trip Dumbledore had intended.

Although he had spoken with Dumbledore in the afterlife and consulted his portrait about the Hallows when it was all over, he felt uneasy about Snape’s accusation about “raising him like a pig for slaughter.” Dumbledore had been right in the end, hadn’t he? But how many lives had been ruined in his quest for the greater good? It wasn’t as simple as Dark Arts versus acceptable magic, or good versus evil, hatred versus love — people were more complicated than that.

Harry didn’t know where else to turn. Speaking with Luna had helped, but Ginny had been quick to notice her near the lake, walking hand in hand with Dean Thomas. Ginny was dealing with her own trauma, and talking was the last thing she had wanted to do with him. Ron and Hermione were probably off doing the same thing, and that realization made him sick.

Putting his sandwich down, he decided to unpack the emotions he had pushed aside for the past year. While they had been hunting for Horcruxes, he feared that his best friends would abandon him, and he wasn’t wrong. Ron did leave, but Hermione had “chosen him,” as Ron put it. Except she hadn’t really chosen Harry as much as she had promised to help him defeat Voldemort.

The two of them had spent so many nights in silence — but it hadn’t all been so uncomfortable, had it? Though Ron’s absence hung over them, once they started preparing for their visit to Godric’s Hollow, it had been much easier without his grumbling and bad moods induced by the Horcux, hunger, and pain from his wound. After all, Ron, who knew them better than anyone — certainly better than Viktor Krum or Cho had — suspected the possibility of them getting together, as the scene in the locket showed.

The vision of Riddle-Hermione and Riddle-Harry morphed into the real Hermione after she dropped everything to kiss Ron in the midst of battle. Harry had been annoyed, but it wasn’t the monster in his chest that roared when he saw Ginny with Dean. It came from somewhere deeper, like the churning sensation in his stomach when he saw them cuddling in the common room. Was it dread that she would leave him too, now that they had completed their mission? Or was it…?

A loud clatter outside made him jump to his feet and brandish his wand. To his irritation, it was Peeves, zooming through the hall and knocking down suits of armor. “Get back on your feet, sirs!” he cackled.

Professor McGonagall stormed into the corridor. “In case you missed it, the battle is over, Peeves!” The poltergeist blew a raspberry at her and bounced away, sweeping a few frames to the ground as he retreated. The headmistress shook her head, casting wordless spells to restore order and quell the indignant portaits. In the commotion, Harry attempted to slink back into the classroom, to no avail.

“There you are, Potter.” With a final flourish, she pocketed her wand. “I don’t believe you heard the Minister’s speech this morning, but—”

“They’re accepting new Aurors,” he interjected. “I heard from Ron."

“Yes, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom expressed their interest in the opportunity.” She tilted her head with the unspoken question, but he was taken aback that Ron hadn’t told him.

“I… I haven’t decided yet.”

“I see. Well, I thought you should know, given your career consultation.” A faint trace of a smile hinted at the shouting match she faced with Umbridge about his prospects.

“Yeah, thanks, Professor. I was just wondering if – er, maybe I should come back to Hogwarts to make up for last year.”

The mild expression of surprise on her face was replaced by one of sympathy. “You know you’re always welcome at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter, even if you’re no longer a student. I might remind you that we have yet another opening for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. Over the years I've heard from several members of the so-called ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ that you were one of the best teachers they ever had.”

He flushed from the unexpected praise. “I don’t really think I’m ready for something like that.”

“On the contrary, I don’t believe anyone in the world is more qualified. But I don’t mean to make your decision any more difficult. I’m merely reminding you that you have other options.” In a gentler tone he hadn’t often heard from her, she mentioned, “In fact, I don’t expect anyone would blame you if you said you wanted to leave it all behind for a quiet life in the Muggle world.”

Harry stared.

“Not with your relatives,” she clarified. “But after everything you’ve faced and living in the spotlight all these years, you might have wondered if it would be easier if magic hadn’t existed at all.”

This prompted a flurry of questions about McGonagall’s past, questions he had never considered about his professors until he read Dumbledore’s biography and saw Snape’s life story in the Pensieve. Had young Minerva been raised in the Muggle world? Was she yet another outcast who felt like Hogwarts was her real home? What position had she played on the Quidditch team? There was no doubt she was a prefect, Head Girl, and award-winning student. After all, how had she managed the pressure of three roles: Transfiguration professor, Gryffindor Head of House, Deputy and now official Headmistress? Did she long to run away from it all, thinking magic was more trouble than it was worth?

He chose to ask, “Do you wonder about that?”

She straightened, returning to her senses. “Certainly not. Imagine having to restore this castle without magic! On that note, I ought to find our caretaker and warn him that Peeves is causing mayhem.” With a sigh and a pat on Harry’s shoulder, she said, “Take care of yourself, Potter. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Curious to hear Hermione and Ron's takes on this exchange, he hastened toward the Gryffindor common room and hoped they weren’t curled up together again. He was in such a hurry that he bumped right into someone coming down the staircase.

“Sorry about that – oh hey, Neville!”

Neville’s voice came out an octave higher than usual. “Hi, Harry!”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “What’s up?”

“N–nothing, I was just heading to – to the kitchen for a snack!”

That reminded him of the tray he had left in the classroom. "I’ll come with you, I need to return something. Wait here!” When Harry returned, he was rooted to the same spot, but his eyes darted around the hallway.

“First off, I wanted to say you were brilliant killing the snake.”

Neville swelled with pride. “Yeah, you told us about the sword coming out of the Sorting Hat in second year, but I never thought I’d get to do anything like that!”

“Why not? You were the bravest one of us in the Department of Mysteries, facing all those Death Eaters without a wand. Not to mention everything you did last year to the Carrows. You’ll make an amazing Auror, just like your parents."

“Thanks, Harry. That means a lot, coming from you.”

Now it was his turn to look embarrassed, and he moved on. “Well, I thought you should know about the prophecy.” He described the significance of Nagini without covering too much detail about the other Horcruxes. After that, he shared what he overheard about a boy being born at the end of July who would be responsible for defeating the Dark Lord.

“I thought you were the Chosen One.”

“Technically, yes. But you killed the final part of Voldemort’s soul, so we both fulfilled the prophecy, didn’t we?”

Neville processed this information, continuing past the still life that led into the kitchens.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I was actually going to the Hufflepuff common room,” he mumbled, his cheeks reddening.

Harry smirked. “Oh yeah? What for?”

“I guess you’ll find out eventually, with all the time we’ll be together for training. I wanted to see Hannah Abott.”

He began to refute the assumption and changed his mind, clapping him on the back. “Right. I’ll let you get to it then. See you later, Neville.”

“See ya, Harry.” With an nervous chuckle, he headed down the hall, stopping in front of a pile of barrels. Harry watched with interest as he rapped a rhythm with his knuckles – the Hufflepuff common room was the only one he had never seen. One of the barrels opened to form a passageway, and Neville ducked inside. Then Harry made his way into the kitchen to thank the house-elves for their support in the battle.

* * *

“Where have you been?” Ron asked, as he emerged from the portrait hole. To Harry’s relief, he was sitting in an armchair and playing a game of wizard's chess with Charlie.

“I ran into a few people.” His debate about which story to share first was overtaken by instinctive panic. “Why, what’s happened?”

“We haven’t seen you much today, that’s all.” Hermione closed her book and set it aside.

“I thought you’d seen enough of me this past year,” he remarked, and Ron quirked an eyebrow. “Come off it, you know what I mean, the two of us in the tent all that time.”

“The two of you?” Harry paled at Ginny’s puzzled expression.

“No — yeah, I just meant—” Ron stared daggers at him, and Harry’s temper flared. “What the – were you not planning on telling them?”

“Telling us what?” Ginny glared at her youngest brother, and Charlie paused with his bishop in midair.

Ron buried his face in his hands. “It was the Horcrux, wasn’t it? I had one moment of weakness, and–”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it _one_ moment,” Hermione huffed.

“What is a ‘Orcrux?” Fleur interrupted, and Ron’s ears turned crimson. All the Weasleys had turned their attention to the conversation.

“Remember that strange locket we found when we were cleaning up Grimmauld Place? Voldemort hid a piece of his soul in it like he did with his diary.” Everyone winced when Harry said the name, but he focused on Ginny, hoping they would spare Ron’s lapse given this explanation. “Same with Slytherin's ring that cursed Dumbledore’s hand. And the snake Neville killed, Ravenclaw’s lost diadem we were searching for, Hufflepuff’s cup, and…”

“–Voldemort himself,” Hermione finished, saving him from exposing that he too had been possessed.

“So that was your mission from Dumbledore?” Bill realized. “The one you couldn’t tell any of us that led you to break into Gringotts and obliterate it?”

The three of them nodded.

“You’re lucky you made it out,” he said in astonishment. “I can’t imagine what the goblins would have done—”

“I can.” Ron raised his sleeve, displaying the burn marks from the Geminio Curse.

“You’re lucky you survived that dragon ride,” Charlie added. “Not many tamers could’ve done that.”

“So what exactly was Ron’s moment of weakness?” Ginny questioned.

Harry spoke up again. “It’s my fault, we didn’t know how to destroy the locket, and I made us wear it.”

“That was a stupid idea. So then what, Ron got trapped in another chamber?”

Harry and Hermione hesitated. A hush had settled over the group, and they could hear Ron gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“I… I walked out, alright? Hermione and I had been talking—”

“But I didn’t leave!”

“ _I know_ — I know I was a selfish git,” he spluttered, and his siblings gaped as though they had never seen him before. At the time, Harry had believed that the scene from the Horcrux represented Ron’s worst fears, but this rivaled it. “It was that bloody locket, I—”

“Ron destroyed it.” They turned to Harry, and Ron exhaled, looking grateful. “He came back and saved me from drowning when I tried to grab the Sword of Gryffindor from the bottom of a pond.”

Percy piped up, “A pond? But how—?”

“Snape put it there. It’s a long story. Anyway, Ron rescued me and the sword, and then he used it to destroy the locket. _And we forgave him_ ,” he emphasized, catching Hermione’s eye.

“And just how long did you leave your best friends alone in that tent?” Ginny hissed.

Ron opened his mouth and closed it, trying to work out an acceptable response. “I wanted to go back the second I left, I swear, but I got caught by those effing Snatchers, and then I couldn’t find them because of all the protective charms and random places they were hiding around the country—”

“Tell them about the light going into your chest,” Hermione said dryly.

Harry shot her another look.

“I know we forgave him, but I can’t exactly forget that, can I? I don’t care if he spent weeks trying to find us, he’s the one who—”

“WEEKS?”

“Nearly two months, and we almost died in Godric’s Hollow—”

“Give it a rest!” Harry raised his voice, and the commotion stopped. His heart pounded in his ribcage, his earlier concern that he’d never again feel strong emotions forgotten. Everyone in the common room watched him, including Dennis Creevey, Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood, and the rest of his former Quidditch teammates and classmates attending the memorial. “Look,” he said, his chest heaving. “This past year was a nightmare for everyone, wasn’t it? We were just trying to make it through to the next day. And we were exhausted and starving, and when you have Voldemort controlling you, filling your head with all your worst fears… Not many people could resist that.”

“You did. Hermione too.”

“And what about you?” Ron shot back.

“I was _eleven_ , I wasn’t a fully grown adult—”

“Ginny, let it go.”

Everyone’s heads whipped toward George as he stood up.

“Listen up,” he addressed the room. “Like Harry said, we’ve been through hell and back this year. But it’s over. Harry saved us. So did Hermione. And Ron. And every one of you lot who survived, not to mention everyone who didn't. So how about we shut up about our mistakes and what we should have done, and just focus on what matters? We’re all lucky to be alive."

He sat back down while the group muttered apologies to one another.

“Checkmate,” Charlie said with finality, setting his piece onto the board.

* * *

The rest of the night passed without incident. Tired of talking about the war, they swapped theories about McGonagall’s upbringing and long lost loves, Harry assured them he’d never renounce the wizarding world, Ginny declared that being a professional Quidditch player was her dream job, Hermione beamed when he described the house-elf celebration, and Ron made a lewd comment about Gryffindor’s sword when it was past midnight and Neville hadn’t yet returned to the dormitory.

Their banter made Harry feel silly about wallowing. Of course there were dozens of people he could talk to, people he loved who cared about him in return. It hadn’t been fair to say that he couldn’t talk to Ginny — as she had often pointed out, she knew all about being controlled by Voldemort.

So why had their reunion felt so off? Did they need time to get used to each other again? Had he built up his expectations too much after all that time away? He had never stopped thinking about her, checking the Marauder’s Map and picturing her right before he died… If he was being honest, that was only how he had remembered her, and they had both changed over the course of a harrowing year. Was it possible that her feelings had changed too? Had his?

Bolstered by Ron’s snores, he returned to the line of thinking interrupted by Peeves. For years now, he experienced a gnawing sensation whenever Hermione and Ron displayed any hint of affection. They had never fully acted on it, at least not in front of him, until yesterday. Even though Hermione harbored resentment over Ron’s betrayal, she remained faithful to him. But it wasn’t like she had been given another option, had she?

Godric’s Hollow returned to his mind at once. The Muggle disguises were a convenient excuse, but as he sought solace from his grief, he knew it was Hermione’s hand he was holding, Hermione he wrapped his arms around as they left the cemetery, Hermione who rescued him from Nagini. There was no doubt she was the one who stayed up all night tending to him, tried to convince him about Dumbledore’s love, and huddled with him to keep warm the following day…until Ron returned that night.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, coming to terms with the reason he had always avoided thinking about this.

_She’s like a sister, you love her like a sister, like a sister, you love her, you love her_ …he repeated to himself until he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t support the author’s transphobic views, but I reread the books during the pandemic and it’s been a good distraction getting back into this after so many years. My goal was to write something relatively short and canon-ish, minus the final pairings.
> 
> Title comes from this quote: "And actually I liked that scene in the film, because it was articulating something I hadn't said but I had felt. I really liked it and I thought that it was right. I think you do feel the ghost of what could have been in that scene.” – JK Rowling on the dance scene in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1


End file.
